Father! I would not dare to choose

A longer life, an earlier death;
I know not what my soul might lose
By fhortened or protracted breath.

These border lands are calm and ftill, And solemn are their filent shades; And my heart welcomes them until

The light of life's long evening fades.

I heard them spoken of with dread,
As fearful and unquiet places;
Shades where the living and the dead
Look sadly in each other's faces.

But fince Thy hand hath led me here, And I have seen the border land,Seen the dark river flowing near,

Stood on its brink as now I ftand,

There has been nothing to alarm
My trembling soul; how could I fear
While thus encircled with Thine arm?
I never felt Thee half so near.

What should appall me in a place.

That brings me hourly nearer Thee? Where I may almoft see Thy face,

Surely 't is here my soul would be!

They say the waves are dark and deep,
That faith has perished in the river;
They speak of death with fear

and weep; Shall my soul perifh? never, never!

I know that Thou wilt never leave

The soul that trembles while it clings
To Thee; I know Thou wilt achieve
Its paffage on Thine outstretched wings.

I cannot see the golden gate
Unfolding yet to welcome me;

I cannot yet anticipate

The joy of heaven's jubilee.

But I will calmly watch and pray,
Until I hear my Saviour's voice
Calling my happy soul away

To see His glory, and rejoice.

THE TABERNACLE.

OW meanly dwells the immortal mind!

HOW

How vile these bodies are!

Why was a clod of earth defigned
To enclose a heavenly star?

Weak cottage where our souls refide!
This flesh a tottering wall,

With frightful breaches gaping wide,
The building bends to fall.

All round it ftorms of trouble blow,

And waves of sorrow roll;

Cold winds and winter ftorms beat through, And pain the tenant soul.

"Alas! how frail our state!" said I,

And thus went murmuring on, Till sudden from the clearing sky

A gleam of glory fhone.

My soul felt all the glory come,
And breathed her native air;
Then he remembered heaven her home,

And the a prisoner here.

Straight she began to change her key,

And, joyful in her pains,

She sung the frailty of her clay

In pleasurable strains.

How weak the prison where I dwell!

Flesh but a tottering wall;

These breaches cheerfully foretell

The house must shortly fall.

No more, my friends, fhall I complain,
Though all my heart-ftrings ache;
Welcome disease and every pain

That makes the cottage shake!

Now let the tempeft blow around,
Now swell the surges high,

And beat the house of bondage down,
And let the stranger fly!

I have a mansion built above
By the Eternal Hand;

And fhould the earth's old bafis move,

My heavenly house must stand.

Isaac Watts. 1674-1748.

I

AM old and blind!

Men point at me as smitten by God's frown; Afflicted and deserted of my kind;

Yet I am not caft down.

I am weak, yet strong;

I murmur not that I no longer see;
Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong,
Father supreme! to Thee.

O merciful One!

When men are fartheft, then Thou art most near; When friends pass by me, and my weakness fhun, Thy chariot I hear.

Thy glorious face

Is leaning toward me; and its holy light
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place, -
And there is no more night.

On my bended knee

I recognize thy purpose clearly shown:
My vifion thou haft dimmed, that I may see
Thyself, thyself alone.

I have naught to fear;
This darkness is the fhadow of thy wing;
Beneath it I am almoft sacred; here

Can come no evil thing.

O, I seem to stand

Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, Wrapped in the radiance of thy finless land, Which eye hath never seen.

Vifions come and go:

Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng;
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow
Of soft and holy song.